


And I'll Take None of the Rest

by sassy_cat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/F, POV First Person, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-08
Updated: 2013-03-08
Packaged: 2017-12-04 16:42:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/712865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassy_cat/pseuds/sassy_cat





	And I'll Take None of the Rest

**A/N** This story was conceived from a prompt and was meant for last year's [](http://minerva-fest.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://minerva-fest.livejournal.com/)**minerva_fest** , but Pomona demanded the story be her own and I withdrew. Pomona also insisted on a first person perspective. I have my own reservations about that, so I won't begrudge you yours.  
Here's the original prompt:  
Pomona has admired Minerva from afar since their schooldays, but what happens when a Hufflepuff's loyalty boils over to possessiveness? If she couldn't have her, then no one would. Boy was she pleased when she got her hands on that Venomous Tentacula seedling just after Minerva's marriage to Elphinstone...

 

 

And I'll Take None of the Rest

 

 

 

He is back again. The sight of him makes my stomach burn.

I watch from a window on the second floor. He's walking with Minerva, waving grandly with his arms and behaving as if he's some love-sick puppy. That fool of a man just doesn't seem willing to leave Minerva be.

Minerva isn't some prize to be won or some maiden waiting for a dashing prince to save her. I snort at the thought; besides, Elphinstone Urquart is more of a ... fumbling doter.

As they approach the castle, I step to the side. I don't want to be caught watching. My eyes narrow as I see them make the turn to go around the Black Lake once more. Their shrinking forms gently brush against each other.

It unsettles me. I rub across my belly with a dirt-covered thumb, digging in under the soft roll of flesh, delving deeper toward the pain and wishing the ache would leave. I wish Elphinstone would leave as well.

I know that I'll be needed tonight as I often am after these _visits_. I'm Minerva's dearest friend; the person she leans on whenever Elphinstone pops round for another proposal.

Year after year, Minerva rejects his advances, often coming back to the castle overwrought and emotionally drained. We sit in the kitchen or in my rooms, sipping tea with only a candle between us.

I smile as I think of the way the shadows play on Minerva's features. The candlelight shows up the lines in her furrowed brow when she goes on about how Elphinstone won't accept that she just doesn't fancy him. Nice bloke that he is.

I move back in front of the window so that I have a better view. The way Elph is flinging those arms around you'd think that he was trying to take flight. Why Minerva tolerates him, I'll never guess.

Mind you, Minerva says that she still fancies that Muggle, a lad named Dougal, who had hair that looked like the setting sun. I know that's all girlish folly, but I still listen to Minerva wax poetic about the perfect man from her past just as I have for nearly thirty years.

Truth is Minerva doesn't have a clue what she wants. I learnt long ago that Minerva lives inside a fantasy of what she might have had. She built that Dougal boy up to be perfection but didn't stay long enough to find out that he really was just another lad.

An unexpected movement by the Lake catches my eye and makes my breath hitch. Minerva's head is thrown back, shoulders shaking; I know her body language so well. She's laughing, and it's her genuine, relaxed laugh.

_What in the world could old Elph have said that would make Minerva laugh in such a way?_

I shift and tug at my undergarments. They're cutting into my shoulder again as if the burn in my belly isn't enough torture. I'm getting old. Nothing for it, but it's damn inconvenient. Then again, so is this waiting.

Waiting for Elphinstone to give up and leave is always the hardest part. I've loved Minerva for years, and aside from Elph's persistent pursuit, Minerva's been all mine.

Slow, patient love is something that I understand. I know that when it's right, there is no leaving or moving on. Young Dougal was surely a handsome lad, but Minerva would never have left if she had really loved him.

Minerva said once that her life would be no good without our friendship. That's all I needed to hear to know that I'd been right all along. Minerva is worth the waiting.

Searching the horizon, I realise that I've lost track of them. _Damn and blast!_

Frantically, I press my forehead to the glass, anger swelling inside for my foolishness.

_Of all the times to be woolgathering!_ I'd meant to time my walk toward the kitchens so that I might accidentally bump into Minerva.

Just as the panic is making me want to rush outside, I see them near the Entrance Hall. He kisses Minerva on the forehead and brushes a loose strand of hair back into place.

I feel something freeze in my chest when Minerva smiles at the gesture, looking almost coquettish. This is new and most unwelcome. That damned spot in my stomach starts to throb and I turn away unable to watch any more.

Rather than walk toward the Entrance Hall, I head back to my rooms. I need to think, need to figure out what game Minerva is playing.

 

~~

 

My rooms don't offer much comfort. I mull over the open laughter I've witnessed and Minerva's reaction to Elphinstone's kiss. I carefully trim my herbs that I keep in the windowsill, relishing the relaxing scents that fill the air.

Just as I start to wonder whether I've imagined it all, there's a distinctive knock on the door. Only Minerva and Poppy visit my rooms and that is Minerva's gentle tap.

Brushing my hands off on my robes, I feel surprisingly nervous. Minerva comes by all the time, but today seems different, and the muscles in my shoulders tense with foreboding dread.

I pull the door open and meet Minerva's happy gaze; I take in her wind-reddened cheeks, but when my eyes drop to Minerva's slightly puffed lips, I fail to stifle my gasp.

She breezes past me into the room comfortable in her welcome. I notice her clothes smell of pink heather. It's still blooming this time of year and it's clinging to her, but a spicy, masculine scent smothers the sweet aroma of the heather, causing a wave of nausea to wash over me.

I grip the door and take a raggedly deep breath. Minerva notices my whitened knuckles still wrapped tightly around the wood and asks, "Pomona, are you feeling well?"

Offering a thin smile, I answer, "I'm fine. Just stood up too quickly."

It sounds weak and forced to my ears but Minerva seems to accept it easily enough. Gesturing toward the fire, I add huffing, "Let's sit by the fire and you can tell me what kind of trouble old Elph caused today."

Minerva tenses at my words of jest, and the uncomfortable feeling I have grows. As soon as we sit, she catches my gaze and breaks into a grin. Without saying a word, she holds out her hand to show off a beautiful ruby ring.

I sit there frozen in shock as Minerva starts chattering like a schoolgirl. Her voice comes in and out and I wonder how Minerva can look so young and happy while making such a huge mistake.

_Getting married? Elph? No!_

My hands start to shake, so I try to hide it by smoothing down my smock and rubbing my tummy. It's a nervous gesture and Minerva catches me at it. Some of the glow slips from her face as she seems to look straight into my soul. I long to see the glow there again but can't bear the idea of Elph being the cause.

I can't seem to say any of the right things, so Minerva makes her excuses, something about telling Albus. I realise that she thinks I'm jealous, and I am. Oh, I am but not of her getting married when I'm not. I see her out, trying not to cringe over her obvious disappointment.

When the door gently clicks closed, I feel hollow. It's as if a vacuum has opened up inside me and engulfed all my magic.

I hide away the rest of the day, skipping dinner. When I can stay up no later, I try to make it better. I need to feel something other than emptiness. I slip out of my clothes and into bed to rub against my silver blue sheets. They're my favourite because they're just the exact shade of Minerva's eyes. I can still be close to her here.

What I wouldn't give to have Minerva lying with me now. My breasts tingle at the thought of Minerva's long fingers carefully cupping them. She would know just how to push them up and around, before nudging the pink ends with her nose and circling them with her tongue.

I twist at my hardened nipples and pull on them, imagining just how it would feel. Oh yes, she'd suck the tips and nibble gently before rubbing her face all over them… Merlin, but I need to feel that. Need to feel Minerva's soft hair falling over my body as she slowly works her way down past my belly.

I'm aching for touch there. Reaching down, I circle the little nub just as Minerva would. Minerva would know how to add just the right pressure, how to wiggle her finger just right to pull moans of desire from deep inside me.

My hips arch up as I think of how Minerva would tease me with soft, nearly-there touches; maybe run her tongue up my thigh before diving in to lick up all my sweet juices. Her hot breath and delectable tongue stab at my clit before gently lapping the ache away, moving the sweet ache down into my thighs giving me that hot, pulsing throb that I've longed for all day.

It's so easy to get lost in the rhythm. I rub hard circles, pinching, wishing it was nipping teeth. It's coming too fast, too fiercely but I need it. Twisting my nipple hard, I make it throb in time with the pulsing between my legs. It pushes me over the edge, and I give in.

Gasping for air, I come back to myself too soon. The night air feels cold against my damp skin, and I remember that I'm all alone. I roll over to hide my face in my pillow. The tears come with sobs and the truth that I have to face.

After all this time, I've lost Minerva … lost her to a fumbling doter who will never love her as deeply or as purely as I do.

 

~~

 

The nights are too long now that even Poppy doesn't come around. No one understands why my temper is so short, but then, nobody else misses Minerva as I do. I can't shake my despair, and it reminds me of the time after Minerva left school.

See for me, it all started in my second year. Minerva offered to tutor me in Transfiguration. It wasn't just any Head Girl who would have invested so much time in a young Hufflepuff simply out of kindness.

Minerva said she saw my potential, told me that I'd be a strong witch one day. I worked my arse off to live up to Minerva's prediction, and by the time, I too left Hogwarts I could have pursued a Mastery in either Herbology or Potions.

Thinking back, I can barely remember a time when Minerva's beauty and strength didn't make my stomach turn nervous flips. Oh, don't get me wrong, I've always known that I love the soft curve of a woman's body, but Minerva –

Minerva is and has always been more. She's a strong, fierce spirit worthy of complete devotion; that spirit just happens to reside within a very alluring package. I accepted long ago that it's only Minerva I long to hold close, only Minerva's unique scent that can send my pulse racing. She is my everything.

Not that any of it matters now, the wedding is today. Just in time for the Spring Equinox, new seasons of life and all that rot.

Still Minerva is pure radiance in her festive robes. I look away when Elphinstone leans down for a kiss. It's too painful to watch her eyes soften at his touch.

Rubbing my stomach, I glance toward Severus and quietly ask him, "You wouldn't happen to have brewed some Tummy-Ease would you?"

He barely gifts me with a glance as he answers, "Poppy has a fresh supply." He looks painfully bored and I envy his disinterest.

It's quite an affair, the wedding. I've spent weeks getting the flowers ready, making sure everything is in bloom. The fact that Minerva hasn't even thanked me yet shouldn't bother me so much.

She's just a busy bride. Nothing has changed now that Minerva's living in Hogsmeade. Mind it would have been proper to have waited for the ceremony before moving in, but old Elph just couldn't wait.

I watch him out of the corner of my eye … like Devil's Snare, that one. As soon as Minerva agreed to marry him, there was no keeping him away. At the castle night and day he was until Albus, the romantic fool, suggested Minerva move to Elph's cottage.

My protestations about _that_ fell on deaf ears. Minerva left the Staff Room in a fit of temper, and Severus had the audacity to tell me old-fashioned morals were for Muggles! Him sitting there dressed like a Victorian vicar, the nerve.

Minerva's blush brings me out of the memories, and I wonder what I've missed. Old Elph pulls her out in front of everyone for a slow dance and I can barely stomach the sight of his long, skinny arms twisting around her, holding her too closely. No decorum whatsoever. The man has become a lecherous beast.

 

~~

 

Carefully, I hand Minerva a cup of her favourite tea. She warms her hands around it and finally speaks, "Pomona, it's too much to bear. I can't go back to that cottage."

I don't know what to say. Our eyes meet and I realise I've been silent too long, but then Minerva adds, "Could I stay in your rooms until Albus arranges for my old quarters?"

I feel a gentle peace sweep through me. My heart flutters and my throat tightens from my excitement. "Of course, no need to ask," I whisper. My voice is raspy and I hope that it sounds as though I'm grief-stricken too.

I sit down beside her and pull her to me. She chokes back a sob and dabs her eyes with a handkerchief that's embroidered with little sprigs of rosemary; I gave her that four Yules ago.

Our relationship has been strained this last decade, but it's good to know that I'm still the one she seeks for comfort. I accept that back then I was too subtle in my pursuit.

Minerva needed Elph's grand gestures, his boisterous declarations. Severus says Gryffindors need to be hit upside the head with reality before they see it. I think it's more that they like passionate efforts and a good chase.

I don't like to see her in pain, but this is all for the best. Minerva clings to the past so hard, so loyally that sometimes she misses when opportunities are sitting just across the table or beside her on a sofa, but I understand.

I understand fear and wanting to stick to what you know. It took Dougal's death for Minerva to consider Elph's proposals. It still amazes me that the solution to my problem was so simple that I nearly missed it. I've wondered if Elph once had the same idea.

Minerva sniffles and I reach up to gently pet her hair. As she leans her head against my shoulder, I know she's back where she belongs. Things are finally as they should have been, and for the first time in years, my stomach doesn't ache.


End file.
